


Hurricane

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: What If? [11]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Charlie killed her brother. Al protected her. The last thing Alicia wants is to be trapped in a house with those two during a storm. An alternate version of 4x10.
Relationships: Althea & Alicia Clark, Althea/Alicia Clark
Series: What If? [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1456003
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I actually wrote most of this awhile ago, but I'm procrastinating my homework and finished this up instead. I've got other works to complete, too, and once season 6 starts up, I bet I'll have even more. So if you're still here, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this!

Alicia kills the family of walkers with no remorse and lets the torrential rain wash her gun barrel clean. She drags all the bodies out front, and after a moment of staring at them, she realizes they’re a family. When Alicia goes back into the house, she gathers all the visible family photos, piles them into a laundry basket. She dumps the basket outside with the four bodies and pulls the door shut behind her.

It bangs against the wall and swings back open. Alicia sighs to herself and searches the kitchen for a light source. She gets lucky and pulls a flashlight out of one of the drawers. Alicia heads into the basement, flashlight in one hand, gun barrel in the other. She sorely regrets giving her Glock to Morgan, but things seem to be working in her favor right now. Except when she reaches the bottom of the steps, she’s standing in ankle deep water. She aims the flashlight beam toward the ground and locates the source of the water, steadily pouring into the basement.

Well, she can’t fix that, but she has no trouble finding wood, a hammer, and a box of nails, so at least she can fix the door. Alicia rushes back upstairs and shuts the basement door behind her. She has the strange feeling that she isn’t alone, but if anything – or anyone – else was here, she figures they would’ve revealed themselves by now. She tells herself once she secures the front door, she’ll do a thorough sweep of the upstairs, just in case.

Alicia positions the wood across the door, but just as she’s about the hammer the first nail through, she hears an unmistakable sound, too close for comfort.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Alicia mutters. She sets the wood on the kitchen counter, drops the nails beside it, and hooks the hammer on her belt. She grabs the gun barrel and steps back out into the rain. She’s not at all surprised to see the SWAT van blocking the driveway. Alicia stops halfway down the driveway, waiting, squinting against the rain blowing into her face. Of course it’s Al who steps out of the van, but Alicia can’t say she’s incredibly happy about it. Her grip tightens on the gun barrel at her side as Al flips her drenched hair out of her face and locks the van up.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Alicia calls the moment Al begins to walk toward her.

“Depends on what kind of answer you’re looking for,” Al replies. She flashes a smile. “Do you want the truth or do you want what I think you want to hear?”

“The truth,” Alicia snarls.

Al shrugs. “Morgan asked me to follow you.”

“And you were dumb enough to listen to him?”

“He was worried about your well-being,” Al says wryly. She knocks her shoulder into Alicia’s as she walks by. “You coming or what?”

“You aren’t staying here,” Alicia says. She grabs Al’s wrist and yanks her back. Al turns back around and raises her eyebrows. “I don’t care if you stay in your van at the end of the driveway, but you aren’t staying with me,” Alicia says.

“I gave Morgan my word,” Al says. She shakes her wrist free of Alicia’s grasp. “I’m not doing this because I want to, Alicia.”

“I don’t need you,” Alicia snaps. “I don’t need you to watch over me, and I really don’t need you to spy on me for Morgan.”

“You really think I’m gonna, what? Report back to him?” Al snorts. “You can search me. I don’t care. I don’t have a walkie or a notepad on me. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you lock yourself in a room the entire storm, but I’m not leaving.”

“I can make you leave,” Alicia threatens.

Al holds her arms out. “Try.”

Alicia glares at Al for a while, until lightning dances across the sky and thunder cracks loud enough to shake the house behind them. “You’re going to leave me the fuck alone until this storm ends,” Alicia spits.

“Fine with me. Oh, I’m gonna get my guns, but don’t worry. I’m just going to clean them. Since you don’t seem to have one on you.”

Al steps around Alicia and returns to the van, but she comes back with her entire bag, not just her guns. The rifle’s over her shoulder, and Alicia just now notices the pistol holstered at Al’s hip.

“I have to fix the door,” Alicia informs as they step up onto the porch.

“Then fix it,” Al says. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“I already said I don’t need you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Al stops in the doorway and shrugs. “I mean, if shit hits the fan, it’s always good to have backup, right?”

“I think you’d be just as likely to kill me as you are to help me,” Alicia retorts. “So I don’t know.”

“You’re the one that tried to kill me,” Al reminds. “I just defended myself.”

“And the kid,” Alicia points out. “You defended the kid that murdered my brother.”

Al exhales softly. The wind causes the door to bang against the wall, but neither Al nor Alicia startles. “You should fix that,” Al says. She disappears into the living room, and Alicia hears her bag hit the floor. Alicia rolls her eyes and holds the door shut while she hammers the wood board into the wall with more force than necessary.

“Mother _fucker_!” Alicia shouts. The hammer clatters to the floor, and Alicia cradles her hand against her chest. Al skids into the kitchen, handgun in her hands. Her eyebrows pull together when she doesn’t spot an intruder, and she lowers the gun.

“What happened?” Al asks. Her eyes drop to Alicia’s hand, clutched against her chest.

“I hit my fucking thumb,” Alicia grumbles.

Al busts out laughing, but she cuts it short when Alicia shoots her a death glare. “Sorry,” Al says. She jams her gun into her waistband and holds her hand out. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Alicia,” Al warns. Alicia holds her hand out and allows Al to prod at her aching thumb. Alicia winces, but Al declares, “I don’t think you broke it, at least. It’ll bruise.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“If I’d known you’d hit your thumb with a hammer, I wouldn’t have gotten up,” Al says. “I thought someone was breaking in.”

“We’re probably the only people for miles,” Alicia replies. “What are you –?”

Al picks the hammer up off the floor and snags a nail off the counter. “I’ll finish this,” Al says. “Since you don’t seem to be capable of hammering six nails without hurting yourself.”

“Give me your gun,” Alicia says, holding her good hand out.

“What? No,” Al scoffs. “Get your own.”

“You know I don’t have one.”

“What do you need it for?”

“I never cleared the upstairs,” Alicia admits.

Al stops with a nail halfway hammered into the wood and sends Alicia an incredulous look. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“Are you stupid?”

“I was accepted into Berkeley, Stanford, Princeton, _and_ Yale,” Alicia snaps. “I’m not stupid.”

“You didn’t clear the entire house before trapping yourself inside it during a hurricane,” Al says. “Doesn’t sound too smart to me.” Before Alicia can respond, Al pulls the handgun from her waistband and slaps it into Alicia’s hand. “I know you’re thinking about shooting me in the back and calling it a day,” Al says. She pounds the final nail into the door, and Alicia jumps. “But I suggest you don’t do that, for your own sake.”

“I’m not going to shoot you,” Alicia mutters. “I don’t like you, but I don’t want you dead.”

“Good to know. Go clear the upstairs. I’ll do a quick inventory of what we have here.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Alicia says. Al laughs, and it lasts so long, Alicia finds herself asking, “What’s so funny?”

Al shakes her head and swipes at a stray tear. “You won’t get it,” she dismisses. “Just go clear the upstairs, yeah?”

“Did you load the gun?”

“Do you really think I’m such an idiot that I handed you an unloaded gun?”

“A _yes_ or a _no_ would’ve worked, you know.” Alicia’s just about to step into the living room when she turns back and adds, “Oh, and the next time you see Morgan, let him know I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Noted.”

Alicia climbs the stairs quickly, searching for any signs of movement or anything out of the ordinary. All the doors are closed, which is maybe a little strange. But hey, Alicia doesn’t know the business of the family that lived here. Maybe they liked to keep all their doors closed. She throws the first one open and steps into a bedroom that clearly belonged to the girl that lived here. Alicia hears a faint growling, and she tenses, reaching for the gun barrel with one hand. She keeps Al’s gun raised, but she realizes the walker’s not inside the house. It’s impaled on a tree just outside the window, thanks to the storm.

Alicia leaves the first room and looks to the next. She reaches for the door handle and twists. The door’s halfway open when the floor creaks behind Alicia. She whips around, gun raised, finger squeezed against the trigger guard. The girl freezes in the hallway, and Alicia’s eyes nearly bug out of her head.

It’s _her_.

Charlie’s standing in the middle of the hallway, every bit as frozen as Alicia. Alicia has the gun aimed at the space a foot above Charlie’s head; she’d been expecting an adult intruder or walker, not the twelve year old that killed Nick. Alicia bares her teeth and lunges at the same time that Charlie flees into the nearest bedroom and slams the door shut. The lock clicks. Alicia bangs her fist against the door once before turning toward the stairs and screaming, “ _Al, get up here!_ ”

Alicia immediately hears the sound of Al’s boots on the wood, and she ascends the stairs two at a time, stumbling onto the landing. “What happened?” Al demands. Her eyes seek out the gun, held at Alicia’s side, then return to Alicia’s face. “Jesus, Alicia!” Al shouts, grabbing Alicia by the shoulders. “What happened?”

“She – she’s here,” Alicia whispers. She vaguely motions behind her with the gun. Al pries the gun from her fingers, jaw hanging open.

“What are you talking about?” Al asks.

“Charlie,” Alicia hisses. She points her finger directly at the bedroom door this time. “She’s hiding in that room!”

Al sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. “Alicia –”

“I didn’t fucking imagine it!” Alicia yells. She seizes two fistfuls of the front of Al’s shirt. “I – I _saw_ her. She was _right there_.”

“Okay,” Al concedes. She jams the gun into her waistband and breaks Alicia’s hold on her shirt. Alicia grasps onto Al’s hands instead, tightly enough to cause Al to wince. “And now she’s in the bedroom?” Al questions.

“ _Yes_.”

“Okay,” Al says. “Stop trying to break my hands, please.” Alicia loosens her grasp. “Thank you. How about you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can talk to her?”

Alicia’s eyes widen, and she takes a step back, finally releasing Al’s hands. Confused, Al follows her, but Alicia holds her hand up, shaking her head. “You did this,” Alicia accuses. “You _brought_ her here.”

“What?” Al blurts. “You saw me arrive. How could I –?”

“You snuck her in!”

“Why would I do that? Alicia, come on, I know you hate the kid. Why would I bring her here?”

“Morgan told you to!”

“Alicia, listen to me,” Al says, holding her hands up. “I didn’t bring her here. Morgan didn’t tell me to, and he wouldn’t. He knows how you feel –”

Alicia surges forward and nearly gets her hands on the gun in Al’s waistband, but Al’s just a tad faster. She grabs Alicia’s injured hand and twists, flinching as Alicia cries out in pain. Al gets Alicia to drop to the ground, intending to pin her, but Alicia throws her off with unexpected strength. The next thing Al knows, she’s on her knees and Alicia has the sharp end of the gun barrel pressed to her throat. Again.

“Alicia,” Al breathes. Their eyes lock, and Al strains as far away from the barrel as she can. “I didn’t bring her,” Al says. “You have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But she’s here,” Alicia says. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Al says. “She must’ve found a way here herself. I didn’t do it, Alicia. I swear.”

Alicia breathes raggedly, studying Al’s face. She determines Al’s telling the truth and lowers the barrel. “Okay,” Alicia says. “I’m sorry.”

She offers Al her hand, and Al doesn’t hesitate to take it. Alicia pulls her up, and Al runs her fingers through her hair, exhaling shakily. Alicia carefully approaches the bedroom door, not making a sound, then raises her fist and bangs the end of the gun barrel into the wood. A girl screams behind the door, and Al’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline.

“Well, shit,” Al says. “You saw Charlie.”

“I told you!”

Al chews on the inside of her cheek and thinks for a while. “Clear the rest of the upstairs,” she decides. “I finished the door, gathered the food that’s here, and lit some candles.”

“Candles? You thought that was a priority?”

“It’s getting dark, and we should save the flashlight’s battery,” Al replies. “Finish clearing the upstairs, and meet me in the living room. I’ll build a fire, and we need to get out of our wet clothes.”

“And Charlie?” Alicia demands.

Al sighs heavily and shakes her head. “We’ll have to deal with her later. For now…can you just do what I said, please?”

Alicia nods. She holds her hand out, but Al hesitates.

“No,” Al says. “I’ll keep the guns.”

Alicia doesn’t try to argue.

The rest of the upstairs is clear, and Alicia heads back to the living room. “Hey, what the fuck?” Alicia blurts. She shields her eyes with her forearm. “Normal people warn strangers when they’re going to get naked.”

“One, you’re not a stranger,” Al says. “Two, I told you I was going to change out of my wet clothes when we were upstairs.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be doing it right now!”

“Sorry,” Al says nonchalantly. “You can look again.”

Alicia lowers her arm, glad to find Al’s wearing a fresh pair of sweats and a white T-shirt. Al dries her hair the best she can with a towel and motions to a second towel sitting on the coffee table.

“You should dry off,” Al says.

Alicia snatches up the towel. “I’ll change in the bathroom,” she says. “Like a normal person.”

“Since when are we normal people, Alicia?”

Alicia doesn’t answer her. Alicia changes in the bathroom. When she returns to the living room, Al’s seated on the floor in front of the chimney, working on cleaning her guns rather than building a fire like she promised. Alicia figures she’ll have to do it for herself. Al doesn’t try to stop her, and she only looks up when Alicia determines the chimney is blocked.

“I can clear it,” Alicia says.

“Great,” Al replies. “Clear it.”

Alicia sends an irritated look over her shoulder, but Al isn’t looking. She’s focused on her rifle. Alicia pauses and takes a moment to study Al while she’s occupied. Al’s jaw is set, and her bangs hang in her eyes, though she doesn’t bother to push them back. As long as Alicia has known Al, she hasn’t struck Alicia as the T-shirt wearing type, but here she is, exposing her arms for probably the first time ever. At least, for the first time around Alicia. There’s normally a necklace around her neck and some kind of bracelet on her wrist, but both are missing, probably shoved in her bag. Al seems oddly…stripped down. Bare, almost.

“Are you gonna clear the blockage or stare at me all night?” Al asks without looking up.

Alicia’s face heats up, but she doesn’t justify the question with a response and gets to work on the chimney blockage. It takes a few tries, but Alicia does eventually clear it. A dead bird drops, and Alicia startles, instinctively reaching for the gun barrel. When she realizes what it is, she deflates and shakes her head to herself.

“That’s sad,” she murmurs. “And a little gross.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Alicia says quickly. “It’s just a dead bird.”

“Oh.” Al sets her rifle aside. “I’ll take care of it –”

“No, it’s fine,” Alicia says. “I can do it.”

Al watches Alicia carry the bird out the door that still has a functioning lock with a strange sort of care. Alicia walks rather stiffly when she comes back and immediately goes to ensure she’s fully cleared the blockage.

“You alright?” Al asks.

“Fine,” Alicia says absently. Al hasn’t picked the gun back up yet. Alicia tries to ignore her, but she can feel Al’s eyes piercing into the back of her skull. “Are you gonna clean your rifle or stare at me all night?” Alicia snaps.

Al doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she says, “You have a weird thing about birds, right?”

“What?” Alicia says. She swivels around to face Al and leans back against the chimney for support.

“When I interviewed your mom, she told the story about the bird you and Nick nursed back to health,” Al says. “I mean, you saw the tape –”

“I know. What’s your point?”

Al shrugs. “You’ve got a thing about birds. That’s all.”

“I don’t have a thing about birds,” Alicia mutters. “It’s just sad –”

“You know what’s sadder?” Al interrupts. “The dead family you dragged out onto the lawn. I’d say that’s pretty sad.”

“Yeah, it’s sad –”

“But you’re hung up on a dead bird. Obviously you have a thing about birds.”

“Oh, shut up,” Alicia says. “What do you know?”

“More than you think.”

“Just clean your gun and mind your business,” Alicia says. Al shrugs and gets back to work, and Alicia builds a satisfactory fire that lights up the room and makes the house seem ten times warmer. Alicia gets to her feet, smiling to herself. “I’m gonna eat,” Alicia announces. “If you want, we can sit at the kitchen table and pretend like we’re having a normal meal.”

Al grins and flips her hair out of her eyes. “And why would we do that?”

“To humor ourselves. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten a meal at a table in a house?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve sat at a table at all?” Al replies.

“No,” Alicia answers. She holds her hand out. “Come on. We’re gonna eat.”

“And the kid?”

Alicia tenses, but she merely wiggles her fingers and says, quieter, “Come on.”

Al takes her hand and stands. She lets Alicia lead her into the kitchen and doesn’t object when Alicia nudges her toward the table. Alicia grabs two cans and sets them on the table with the can opener before taking a seat across from Al.

“We can’t just let her starve up there,” Al says.

“That’s her problem,” Alicia dismisses. “She shouldn’t have snuck in here with me.”

“Well, she’s here, and we’ll have to deal with it sooner or later,” Al says. She holds her hand out. “Give me the can opener.”

Alicia slaps it into her hand and watches as Al opens the two cans and slides the more appealing one toward Alicia. “You’re really gonna eat a can of green beans?” Alicia questions.

“I’ve eaten worse.”

“I hate when you say cryptic shit like that, you know,” Alicia informs. She jams a peach into her mouth and chews. She swallows, then adds, “You love to, like, vaguely refer to your past but never actually say anything substantial.”

“That’s an interesting observation, especially from you,” Al says. Amusement shines in her eyes, and she pointedly eats her green beans.

“I mean, I could probably count the things I know about you on one hand,” Alicia says. “I know more about June, and she lied about her name for months.”

“Let me put it this way,” Al says carefully. “You don’t want to know me.”

Alicia shrugs. “I won’t force you to tell me about yourself.”

“Good.”

“But it’d be nice to know something, since I told you the rest of my mother’s story.”

“I liked her,” Al says offhandedly. “When she wasn’t trying to rob me, at least.”

“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”

“And I don’t want to talk about myself,” Al replies. “I guess we’ve reached an agreement.”

“One thing,” Alicia presses. “One little thing that isn’t bullshit about yourself, and I’ll let it go.”

Al raises her eyes from her can of green beans and meets Alicia’s gaze. “My last name is Szewczyk-Przygocki. My parents were both Polish, and one of those names wasn’t bad enough, so they did the hyphenating thing and messed up my childhood.”

Alicia stares at her for a long time before she eats another peach. “Say that again.”

“Szewczyk-Przygocki.”

Alicia nods. “Yeah, that’s terrible.”

“Alicia –”

“I don’t know how to…understand the fact that you knew my mother,” Alicia admits. She refuses to look up from her rapidly emptying can, and she continues eating, hoping it’ll force Al to say something in response.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Al says.

“You’re one of the few people left in the world who knew her,” Alicia says. “Or maybe you didn’t _know_ her know her, but…you met her. You got her to talk to you on camera. She probably could’ve killed you, but she didn’t – and you didn’t kill her, either, even though you probably could’ve justified it if you had. She told you something _incredibly_ personal about our family – about me and Nick – and…and here you are, sitting at a kitchen table with me, eating disgusting canned food.” Alicia smiles and shakes her head, looking anywhere but at Al and trying desperately not to let the stinging in her eyes turn into actual tears. “And I don’t get it,” Alicia says. She hates that her voice breaks.

Al opens her mouth but hesitates. She folds her hands together on the table and takes a moment to think before she speaks. “I could tell,” Al says, “when I met her, that she would’ve done anything for her kids. She stole my van because she thought that was her best chance at getting back to you.”

“That’s funny,” Alicia says, “because I spent years wondering why I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“You saw the tape,” Al says gently. “I don’t need to tell you what she said. No parent is perfect –”

Alicia’s hands curl into fists on the table, and Al definitely notices, pausing for a moment to give Alicia time to calm down.

“No parent’s perfect,” Al repeats, “but when I met her, at least, she was doing her best.”

“She didn’t always do her best,” Alicia says.

“She was human,” Al says. She finishes off her green beans and throws the can across the room, somehow making it into the garbage. She leans back in her chair, swallows, and says, “I didn’t know her well, and it’s obvious she made mistakes. Lots of them, I’m sure. But she loved you.”

“She died for me.”

“She died for you,” Al says. “She made that choice. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.” Al stands and pushes her chair back in. She motions toward the living room. “We should get ready for bed,” Al says. “It’s getting late.”

Alicia finds pillows and blankets, and she spreads sheets out on the floor after Al helps her move the coffee table out of the way. The fire’s almost out, but Al tells her to let it die, promises to rebuild it in the morning.

“Take the couch,” Alicia says.

“I’m good on the floor,” Al dismisses. She drops a pillow on the floor beside the couch and spreads out a blanket.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Alicia says. “I sat on it. It’ll fuck up my back.”

Al snorts. “Because sleeping anywhere and everywhere doesn’t fuck up your back? That couch is the least of your problems.”

A thud from upstairs reminds Alicia of their unwanted guest. Alicia drops her pillow a few feet from Al’s, so they can sleep perpendicular to each other. Alicia spreads out a blanket of her own and sets the gun barrel to her right, close to where Al’s guns rest, within arm’s reach.

“You think one of us should be on watch?” Al asks.

“I think we’re fine,” Alicia mumbles. She’s asleep almost the moment she lies down. Alicia jolts awake an undeterminable amount of time later after a particularly loud clap of thunder. She scrambles to sit up, heart hammering in her chest, but she doesn’t see any kind of threat. Somehow, though – through intuition or something – Alicia _knows_ Charlie is downstairs. She throws her blankets aside and looks over at Al. She’s asleep on her stomach, blankets only covering her lower half. Her T-shirt’s riding up halfway, exposing the pale flesh of her lower back, but Alicia tears her eyes away and locates the handgun. She carefully picks it up and stares at it until she can read _Smith & Wesson M&P _on the barrel.

Thunder booms again, but Alicia doesn’t startle this time. Alicia freezes, waiting to see if it’s loud enough to wake Al, but she continues to sleep. Maybe all the time she spent locked in an armored van has lulled her into a false sense of security. The rain pounds rhythmically on the roof, and Alicia relies on the sound to cover any creaks her footsteps might cause. Alicia sneaks into the kitchen, slowly poking her head around the corner. Alicia raises the M&P as her eyes land on Charlie’s back. Unsurprisingly, she’s digging through the canned goods. Alicia braces her finger on the trigger, inhaling deeply.

Is she _really_ going to kill a child?

Yes. Just as Alicia prepares to squeeze the trigger, an arm secures around her chest from behind and pulls her off balance. Al’s arm stays locked around Alicia as she grabs the barrel of the gun. If Alicia pulled the trigger, she’d blow a hole right into Al’s palm. Al’s face is right next to Alicia’s, and Alicia attempts to break free, but Al’s hold on her is too strong.

“Take your finger off the trigger,” Al says. She sounds awfully calm for someone who’s holding the business end of a gun – too calm. Scary calm. Alicia takes her finger off the trigger. Al still hasn’t released her, and Alicia considers her options. She could probably get her elbow into Al’s gut or somehow throw her off, but before Alicia has a solid escape plan, Al says, “Take the food. Go. Now.”

Charlie wastes no time in scooping up an armful of cans and bolting past Al and Alicia toward the stairs.

“Hey!” Alicia says. She tries to break Al’s grasp on her, but Al just grunts and holds her off until she hears the door slam shut upstairs. Then Al steps back, but Alicia whips around and presses the barrel of the gun to Al’s chest instead.

“Put that down,” Al scoffs. When Alicia doesn’t listen, Al simply rips it out of her hands.

“How – you grabbed the barrel – you weren’t even _worried_?” Alicia exclaims. “I could’ve blown your hand to shit!”

Al smirks and jams the gun into her waistband. “You never shut the safety off, Alicia,” Al says. “I’m not an idiot, but I’m starting to wonder about you.”

Alicia gapes at Al for a long while as her face flushes. How could she _forget_ to turn off the safety?

“Come on,” Al says, taking hold of Alicia’s arm. “Let’s go sit down.”

“I don’t need you to walk me,” Alicia growls. She yanks her arm free, and Al gives up, following after her. Alicia drops onto the couch, drawing her legs toward her chest, and she doesn’t argue when Al takes a seat on the other side.

“I can build a fire,” Al offers.

Even though Alicia shivers, she says, “Don’t bother.”

Al shrugs. She reaches down and picks up one of the blankets she’d been using, offering it to Alicia. Alicia takes it, just so Al can’t see her shivering.

“You’re going to kill her, aren’t you?” Al asks.

Alicia stares at the fireplace, but she can see Al staring at her out of the corner of her eye. Alicia takes a moment and gives the question serious thought. “I want to,” she admits. Alicia waits for the thunder to stop before adding, “The longer we stay here, the worse it’ll get. I have to go.”

“You can’t,” Al says. “Not in the middle of a hurricane.”

“Then we might have another body to get rid of.”

Al presses her lips together. “Just let me handle her,” Al says. “I’ll keep her away from you –”

“I don’t want her here,” Alicia interrupts. “She killed my brother. And frankly, you’re not much better.”

“Because I stopped you from killing her?”

“Twice. You protected her _twice_. You barely know her.”

“I don’t have to know her,” Al replies. “She’s a kid.”

“She _murdered_ my brother.”

“Did you ever stop to think maybe I’m looking out for you, too?” Al questions. Alicia turns to send her an incredulous look, and Al raises her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“How?” Alicia asks.

“I know you think killing her will make you feel better about your brother, but have you thought, just for a second, that maybe it’ll make everything worse?”

“I can’t feel much worse,” Alicia says.

Al clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth but doesn’t respond. She leans back into the couch, stretching her arm across the back toward Alicia. Her fingers are a few inches away, but Alicia still recoils closer to the armrest as if Al had touched her.

“Trust me,” Al says. “Killing her will just make you feel worse.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve met a lot of people. Seen a lot of things. I know.”

Alicia scoffs. “There you are, vaguely referring to your past again.”

“I’ve got at least five tapes in my van that will back me up,” Al says flatly. “Five people who killed someone they wanted to kill and lived long enough to regret it.”

“Show me,” Alicia says.

“What?” Al says. “The tapes are in my van. I’m not going out in the storm to retrieve them.”

“Then I will.”

“Alicia, no!”

Al grabs Alicia by the wrist and stops her from walking off. “You can’t stop me,” Alicia says, pulling her arm free. “It’s just a little water, Al. A little water never hurt anyone.”

“I beg to differ,” Al says. “It’s not a little water, it’s a fucking hurricane. I won’t let you go out there. Besides, my van’s locked, and only I have the keys.”

Alicia stares at Al for a long while. Her eyes drop to Al’s sweats, and Al jumps up the moment before Alicia surges forward and grabs a fistful of Al’s T-shirt. Alicia manages to shove Al back down to the couch, pressing her fist into her chest, and Alicia tries to get her hand into one of Al’s pockets. The left one’s empty, so her keys must be in the other. Before Alicia can get her fingers around the key ring, Al makes a grab for Alicia’s other hand. She grasps onto Alicia’s thumb, bruised a deep purple from being hit with a hammer, and bends it back. Alicia screams but releases her hold on Al’s shirt with her other hand and presses it against Al’s face, pushing her head back against the couch until she lets go of Alicia’s thumb. Alicia plunges her hand into Al’s other pocket and gets her fingers around the key ring. She yanks them free and takes off running.

She takes three steps before Al tackles her from behind, and they both crash to the wood floor with a loud _thud_. They both groan, but before Alicia can crawl her way toward where Al’s keys landed, Al locks her arm around Alicia’s waist.

“Alicia, stop!” Al says through her teeth.

“Let go of me!”

“Stop!”

Alicia stops trying to crawl for the keys and reaches back instead, groping around until her hand touches the M&P in Al’s waistband. Al has no choice but to release her hold on Alicia’s waist to stop her from taking the gun, and Alicia uses the opportunity to scramble to her feet. Al grabs her by the ankle, and Alicia goes crashing down again, just short of the keys to the van.

“You’re gonna get hurt!” Al exclaims. “Just stop!”

Alicia tries to kick herself free of Al’s grasp, and Al lets go, rushing to her feet. Alicia drags herself toward the keys again, but Al steps on them before Alicia gets her hands on them. Alicia lifts her eyes up to Al’s face, watching as Al’s jaw clenches. Her hair hangs in her eyes as she stares down at Alicia, both breathing heavily. Al bends over and scoops up her keys, cramming them back into her pocket. Al holds her hands out, and Alicia rolls her eyes but allows Al to haul her up to her feet.

“Are you hurt?” Al asks.

“I’m fine,” Alicia grunts. Her shoulder aches from hitting the wood floor so hard, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any lasting damage. Her thumb throbs from being bent backward, but that’s the least of her problems. “You’re hurt,” Alicia observes. She touches the pad of her uninjured thumb to Al’s lip, where blood slowly oozes down her chin.

“You hit me in the face,” Al says. She pulls Alicia’s hand away. “It’s fine.”

“Is it just your lip or –”

“It’s just my lip,” Al dismisses. “Get your hands off of me.”

Alicia sighs. “Let’s build a fire,” she says. “And I’ll look at your lip.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Al says. “But if you want to build another fire, knock yourself out.”

Alicia starts a fire, unable to stop herself from glancing back at Al every few seconds. Al sits on the couch, wiping the blood from her chin with the bottom of her T-shirt, staining the white cotton red. Once the fire’s back, Alicia turns her back to it and fully stares at Al.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia says. “I should’ve been more careful –”

“You shouldn’t have gone for my keys in the first place,” Al growls. “I could’ve seriously hurt you.”

Alicia balks. “ _You_ could’ve hurt _me_? You’re the one who’s bleeding!”

“I had the gun on me the entire time,” Al says. “I could’ve used it.”

“But you didn’t.”

Al exhales heavily. “Of course I didn’t. I don’t want to kill you. But if you go for my keys like that again –”

The unspoken threat hangs in the air between them, and Alicia averts her eyes as Al brings her shirt higher up, holding it against her split lower lip.

“I can probably find some medical supplies somewhere,” Alicia mutters. “So you don’t have to get blood on your shirt.”

“It’s fine,” Al says. “It’ll stop bleeding soon.” Al pauses. “You landed pretty hard on your shoulder –”

“My shoulder’s fine,” Alicia says quietly. “Just kinda stiff. I think you made the bruising on my thumb worse, though.”

“You deserved it,” Al says. She pulls her shirt away from her lip to inspect the amount of blood soaked into the fabric. “You were groping me for my keys.”

“I was not _groping_ you.”

“You totally were,” Al replies. “For my gun, too.”

“I didn’t grope you!”

“Did too,” Al says. “You grabbed my ass once.”

“I did not!”

“Then why did I feel a hand grab my ass while you were trying to get my gun?”

Alicia gapes as her face burns bright red. “I was going for the gun,” Alicia argues. “You were making it difficult.”

Al tries to smile but accidentally causes her lip to bleed more. “I’m messing with you,” Al says. She brings her shirt back to her lip. “Just don’t do it again, or I will hurt you.”

Alicia gets to her feet and goes for Al’s bag. “You’re gonna need a new shirt,” Alicia explains before she unzips the bag. “That one’s all bloody.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“You’ve got plenty of shirts,” Alicia says. She pulls the first shirt she finds in the bag free and throws it at Al’s chest. “You don’t have to wear blood.”

“I’ve worn worse.”

“Stop saying shit like that.”

Al shrugs and pulls the white T-shirt over her head. She swaps it for the black shirt Alicia threw at her and rolls the sleeves to her elbows. Alicia watches as Al bundles up the T-shirt and holds it against her lip once more.

“You know,” Al says, “when I was in Iraq – years ago – one of my friends had his brains blown out right next to me. I wore that for, I don’t know, hours? It was all over my face, neck, and shirt.” Al waves her free hand over the corresponding area. “A little blood won’t hurt me.”

Alicia stands frozen beside Al’s bag, but Al isn’t looking at her. Al’s looking straight into the fire across the room.

“Was that still too vague for you?” Al questions.

“I – I’m sorry.”

Al waves her off, manages a small smile with just one side of her mouth. “You weren’t there.”

Alicia unfreezes and walks over to Al. Alicia gently tugs the T-shirt out of Al’s hand and tilts her head back to inspect her lip. It’s swollen, still bleeding a little. “You’ll be alright,” Alicia says softly.

Al cracks a smile then grimaces. “I know I will,” she says. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Alicia nods. She holds the T-shirt back out to Al. “What happened to the person that killed your friend?” Alicia asks.

Al inhales sharply. “I killed him,” she admits.

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “You – you _what_?”

“It was self-defense, really. He would’ve killed me next.”

Alicia drops down onto the couch beside Al, suddenly feeling like her legs aren’t strong enough to keep her upright. “Do you regret it?” Alicia asks.

Al dabs at her lip one last time and tosses the T-shirt aside. “No.”

Thunder booms louder than before, catching both Al and Alicia off guard. The house quakes, and Alicia has a bad feeling that was a little more than just thunder. Her jaw hangs open, and she stares toward the staircase, just in case Charlie leaves the bedroom.

“Told you not to go out there,” Al murmurs.

“I don’t think now is the time –” Alicia cuts herself off as the house shakes again. This time, though, the shaking is accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. Alicia jumps to her feet, closely followed by Al. Alicia scoops the gun barrel up and leads the way up the stairs with Al on her heels. Alicia’s foot just hits the landing when Charlie shrieks from the bedroom. Alicia tries the knob, but she’s unsurprised when she finds it locked.

“Move,” Al commands. Alicia steps aside, and with one swift kick, Al knocks the door down. Alicia moves in first, quickly taking in the scene. The tree with the walker impaled on it had crashed through the side of the house, and the walker’s free of the tree, pinning Charlie to the carpet. Alicia doesn’t hesitate. She stabs the gun barrel through the walker’s skull and grabs a fistful of its shirt, yanking it off of Charlie. Charlie stops screaming and pushes herself up enough to scramble away from Alicia, back toward Al.

The wind blows cold rain through the new opening in the house, and Alicia’s soaked within seconds, shivering. Al helps Charlie to her feet, sending wary glances in Alicia’s direction, but Alicia merely stands over the motionless walker, gun barrel held in both hands. Her thumb begins to ache once more.

“Alicia,” Al shouts over the sound of the wind. “We need to go back downstairs and board this room up.”

Alicia nods and waves Al off. “You go on,” Alicia replies. “There’s something I have to do.”

“Make it fast.”

Al leads Charlie away. Alicia waits until she’s sure they’re downstairs before she walks across the room, glass crunching beneath her boots. She’d spotted it the moment after she’d saved Charlie.

On the bedside table sits a small Glock.

Alicia pulls the door shut behind her and hurries down the stairs, joining Al and Charlie in the living room. They’re both seated on the couch, Charlie slumping down. Her hands rests on her legs, palms turned up. Both of Charlie’s palms are bloody, shredded by the glass strewn about the bedroom. Charlie’s hair is wet, plastered to her face, and she shivers nonstop. Seeing her like this reminds Alicia that she really is just a child. A child who made a mistake.

“Alicia,” Al says. Alicia snaps out of it, locking eyes with Al. Alicia blinks, studying Al quickly. Tensed muscles. Defensive posture. The M&P is within Al’s reach. Al thinks Alicia’s coming for Charlie next.

“Yeah,” Alicia says quietly. She drops the gun barrel, coated in walker blood, to the floor. “What’s up?”

“Can you search the bathroom for a first aid kit or something?” Al asks. “I’m going to need tweezers, some kind of antiseptic, and some bandages. Maybe ibuprofen, if you can find it.”

Alicia nods. “Find her something to change into,” Alicia says. “I have some extra clothes in my bag. They’ll be a little big, but it’s better than nothing.”

Alicia disappears into the bathroom but reemerges to grab the flashlight once she realizes she can’t see shit. Alicia flicks the light on and starts poking through the cabinets. She pulls a small first aid kit out of the cabinet beneath the sink and locates a larger first aid kit within the small closet next to the toilet. Alicia returns to the living room and sets both kits on the coffee table.

“I’m gonna go board up the room upstairs,” Alicia informs. “You know. Just in case.”

Al nods. “You need to change, too. You’re soaked.”

“I’m fine,” Alicia says. “I’ll be back.” She picks up the gun barrel; she doesn’t like being unarmed. Going weaponless feels worse than stomping around naked. Alicia retrieves the hammer and the extra wood left over from when they’d boarded up the door upon arrival. This time, she’s careful not to whack her thumb.

Alicia heads back downstairs once the work is done and finds Charlie in dry clothes with her wet hair tied back. Al’s trying to work by firelight to dig the shards of glass out of Charlie’s hands.

“Here,” Alicia says. She clicks the flashlight on and angles it at Charlie’s palms. “Might help.”

Al nods and pulls another piece of glass free with the tweezers, setting it beside the fireplace. “Go change,” Al says. “The last thing you need is pneumonia or something.”

Alicia doesn’t argue, even though she’s pretty sure she won’t get pneumonia. She swaps her clothes out in the bathroom despite the lack of light, and she’s careful to conceal the Glock within the waistband of her pants. Her tank top doesn’t do much to hide the outline of the gun, so Alicia will just have to make sure Al doesn’t see her from behind.

Alicia’s just about to step back into the living room when she hears Charlie ask, “What happened to your lip?”

Alicia stops and waits around the corner, hoping Al didn’t hear her footsteps in the hall. Alicia peers around the corner, getting eyes just on Al. She watches Al shake her head and offer Charlie a small smile as she plucks a rather large shard of glass from her palm.

“Nothing happened,” Al lies. “Accidentally bit it in my sleep.”

“She attacked you,” Charlie guesses.

Al sighs. “No –”

“You don’t have to lie. I know she wants me dead. Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie says. “I deserve it. I know Alicia wants me dead, but I want me dead more than she does.”

“Hey,” Al says sharply. “That’s no way to talk.”

“It’s true.”

“You made a mistake,” Al insists. “And even if Alicia never forgives you, you can still forgive yourself. You can be better.”

“Not if she kills me.”

“She won’t kill you.”

Alicia closes her eyes, forces herself to breathe steadily. She waits for Charlie’s response, but Charlie stays quiet. Alicia braces herself then walks back into the living room, drawing Charlie’s eyes to her. Al’s busy splashing antiseptic over one of Charlie’s hands, washing the blood away.

“I don’t think we can stay here,” Alicia announces. “The way the rain’s coming into the upstairs…I think we need to leave.”

“Not now,” Al says. “It’s dark. We can leave when the sun rises.”

Panic flashes across Charlie’s face, but she keeps her thoughts to herself as Al winds bandages around her hand. Alicia realizes Charlie hasn’t spoken a word while she’s around, only when she’s thought Alicia was out of earshot. She speaks only to Al.

“Where are we gonna go?” Alicia asks.

Al exhales and shakes her head. “We might have to chance facing the storm in the van.”

“The van’s secure. Right?”

“It should hold up.”

“But?”

Al tears her eyes away from Charlie’s hand to meet Alicia’s gaze. “But shit happens,” Al says. “I can’t guarantee we’ll be safe.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Alicia says. She heads into the kitchen and searches their stack of cans until she finds a can of mixed fruit. She pops the top off and grabs a spoon out of the drawer. She returns to the living room to see Al finish bandaging Charlie’s hand then pat her on the knee. Al stands, and Alicia knows she’s trying to body block her. Alicia pushes forward anyway and sets the can on the fireplace beside Charlie. “You should eat something,” Alicia says. She holds out the spoon. Charlie stares at it for a long moment before she takes it, careful not to touch Alicia. She nods her thanks, and Alicia quickly puts space between them, heading for the couch.

“Hey,” Al says, catching Alicia’s arm before she can go too far. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

Al winces, glancing over her shoulder at Charlie. “I mean, somewhere else.”

“Tell Charlie not to go anywhere.”

Al releases her hold on Alicia’s arm and turns back to say, “Charlie, stay here in front of the fire, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Charlie nods, still chewing her fruit. Alicia follows Al up the stairs, past the boarded up bedroom, into the master bedroom. Al shuts the door.

“Why are we up here?” Alicia asks. She crosses her arms over her chest, inching backward deeper into the room as Al stands in front of the door.

“I don’t want her to hear us,” Al dismisses.

“What does it matter if –?”

“She’s a kid, and we’re the adults,” Al cuts in. “Now listen: I need you to promise me you aren’t going to hurt Charlie.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I need you to promise.”

Alicia scoffs. “Why should I?”

Al closes the space between them, and Alicia instinctively leans back as Al towers over her. “You want to live, I want to live, and regardless of what you overheard Charlie telling me, I know she wants to live, too. And the best way to make sure we all stay alive is to help each other, at least through the storm. That tree crashing into this house was probably loud enough to draw walkers for miles, and I’m willing to say we’re going to have company soon. I need to be able to trust that you’re going to have my back when we have to defend ourselves. I can’t be worried that you’ll be trying to kill Charlie while I’m trying to hold off the dead.”

Alicia glares up at Al. “I’m not an idiot, regardless of what you seem to think.”

Al shifts back just enough to give Alicia some breathing room. Al puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, Alicia. You hit your thumb with a hammer and forgot to turn the safety off a gun. I’ve done dumber shit than that. But I – look, I understand what you’re going through. She killed your brother. You want revenge. I get it. But I need you to promise to just – wait. Just wait until this storm passes, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Alicia blinks. “How is that any different than if I just kill her now?”

Al’s jaw clenches. “Because if you kill her, it sure as hell won’t be on my watch. But after the storm, I’ll leave, and I don’t give a fuck what you do once I’m gone. Just promise you won’t kill her now. Promise me I can trust you.”

Alicia scowls, but it fades quickly. She chews on the inside of her cheek then mumbles, “I promise.”

Al holds her hand out, and Alicia rolls her eyes but shakes it. Al goes to pull the door open, but Alicia grabs her wrist and stops her.

“You can’t shoot the dead,” Alicia says. “You’ll draw even more attention to us, and Charlie is unarmed.”

“My trench spikes are in my bag,” Al says. “And I think I’ve got an extra knife for Charlie, but…Alicia, it’s really going to fall on me and you to defend all three of us. We can’t expect Charlie to –”

“She shot my brother,” Alicia interrupts. “She can kill a few walkers.”

“Her hands were ripped open by that glass,” Al says. “She can hardly hold that spoon you gave her, let alone a knife.”

“She might not have a choice.”

“But we can try to make it so she doesn’t have to kill walkers,” Al says.

“Nothing’s here yet,” Alicia says. She peers out the window just to make sure she’s right. “We could make a run for the van.”

“You didn’t see the walkers flying around out there, did you?”

“No –”

“How did you think that one got impaled on the tree?” Al questions. “We can’t go out there. Not now. We’ll have to defend the house until morning and hope the conditions are better.”

“And if they aren’t?” Alicia says.

“Then we’re stuck.”

“You said we’d leave at sunrise.”

“If we can,” Al says grimly. “Let Charlie think we just need to wait until morning, but come on, Alicia. You know better. We leave when we can leave, and right now, this is the safest place for us to be.”

Alicia presses her lips together. “Did you think maybe that tree falling on the house caused any severe structural damage?”

Al blinks. “I didn’t. How did you –?”

“My father repaired houses,” Alicia dismisses. “That’s the sort of thing he’d be concerned about.”

Al inhales sharply, and her eyes lock on Alicia’s face. She speaks quietly, in a tone that, frankly, sets Alicia on edge. “Alicia, what do you know about houses?”

“You mean –”

“Could you tell if this thing is going to cave in on us?”

Alicia balks. “I – look, my father dealt with that shit, and he was dead by the time I was fourteen. I couldn’t tell you anything. I just know it could be an issue.”

Al nods and covers the lower part of her face with her hand, thinking. “Maybe you’re right,” Al says. “Maybe we can’t stay here.”

Al yanks the door open and rushes toward the stairs, leaving Alicia to hurry to catch up. They return to the living room to find the can and spoon sitting on the fireplace, Charlie nowhere in sight.

“Shit,” Al hisses. “Where would she go?”

“You check the kitchen, I got the bathroom,” Alicia says. Just as Alicia reaches the bathroom, the sound of shattering glass from the living room alerts her to the presence of the first walker. “Oh, fuck it,” Alicia mutters. “Charlie! Where are you! We’ve gotta move!”

Alicia screams as a hand grabs onto her shoulder, but Al’s other hand quickly clamps over her mouth, cutting the scream short. “No yelling,” Al hisses. “Are you trying to bring them all straight to us?”

“They’ll find us anyway,” Alicia growls after she pries Al’s hand off her. “Go get your bag. We need to find –”

More glass breaks, and Al and Alicia share a look before they both bolt back to the living room. Al gets her bag over her shoulder and has the trench spikes in her hands a half a second before she needs them. Alicia’s already killing the first walker, kicking the body back towards its buddies in an attempt to slow them. Alicia catches a glimpse of the front lawn, and she immediately wishes she hadn’t.

“Jesus Christ,” Alicia breathes. “We’re surrounded.”

“Go,” Al orders, shoving Alicia toward the kitchen. “Get in the basement!”

“What about Charlie?”

“We’ll just have to hope she’s already there.”

Al pulls the basement door open and ushers Alicia down before shutting it behind them.

“Al,” Alicia says. Charlie’s standing near the bottom of the steps, unmoving. Al hurries past Alicia and grabs onto Charlie’s shoulder, but Al freezes then. Alicia figures out why. The basement’s steadily flooding. Not the greatest plan they’ve had. “There’s gotta be a way out of here,” Alicia says. She’s the first person to step into the calf-deep water, and she starts to wade through it. “Come on, we have to look for –”

The sound is deafening, and Alicia figures out what’s happening around the same time that Al does.

The house begins to collapse.

Al shoves Charlie off the steps into the water, toward Alicia, before the beam falls from the ceiling and knocks her unconscious. Charlie screams, and Alicia rushes over, splashing through the slowly rising water. Alicia gets Al under the arms and drags her away from the staircase, now impossible to climb up. Blood trickles from a gash in Al’s forehead, and her lip has split back open, but Alicia finds a strong pulse in Al’s neck.

“What are we gonna do?” Charlie whispers.

“We’re gonna find a way out,” Alicia grunts. She looks for somewhere she can put Al, somewhere above water, and locates a workbench in the corner of the basement. “Help me,” Alicia says, nodding toward the bench. Charlie glances toward the unusable staircase, terror striking her features. “Charlie! Come on! We can’t let her die,” Alicia insists.

“Alicia,” Charlie says. “I don’t think there’s a way out.”

“We’ll find one! Help me!”

Charlie helps Alicia lift Al up onto the workbench, and though Alicia’s muscles strain, they manage to lay Al down securely. Alicia can’t stop herself from checking for a pulse again and ensuring that Al’s breathing – she is. Alicia moves as quickly as she can through the water in search of an exit. It’s steadily rising, already pushing toward Alicia’s hips. With the collapse of the house, it’s pouring in even more quickly. And there’s always the threat of walkers –

“Hey! Are you armed?” Alicia asks. Charlie shakes her head, and Alicia throws the gun barrel across the basement toward Charlie. “Don’t lose that,” Alicia warns.

“What about you?”

Wordlessly, Alicia pulls the Glock from her waistband. Charlie’s eyes widen, but she just reaches for the gun barrel. She still won’t leave Al’s side.

“Charlie! Help me look for a way out,” Alicia pleads.

Charlie shakes her head, lower lip trembling. “I can’t – I can’t leave her.”

“If you don’t help me, we’ll all die,” Alicia shouts. She points the Glock at Charlie. “And you already killed my brother! I’m not going to let you get us all killed, too!”

Charlie swallows hard but nods. Before long, the water will be over Charlie’s head. She gets Alicia’s attention and points against the far wall. “There’s an exit,” Charlie says. Alicia rushes over to the exterior entrance to the basement and pushes against the doors.

“It’s – it’s blocked or locked,” Alicia says. She slams her fist against the doors, but they don’t budge.

“We’re gonna drown in here,” Charlie says. Alicia whips around, and Charlie looks eerily calm.

“We aren’t going to drown,” Alicia says. “We’re going to get out.”

“We’re locked in,” Charlie says. “The house fell – we can’t go upstairs, and even if we did, there are walkers everywhere –”

“Stop,” Alicia says sharply. “Help me get the doors open.”

“They’re locked.”

“We aren’t going to sit here and drown! That is _not_ how I want to go!”

Charlie’s eyes drop to the Glock, and Alicia shakes her head fervently. She jams it into her waistband and seizes Charlie by the wrist, dragging her through the water to the exterior doors. Together, they both shove at the doors, but Charlie’s right. They’re locked.

“This is pointless,” Charlie cries. “We need to stay with Al –”

“Then go keep her above water,” Alicia snarls. “And I’ll get us out.”

For a long moment, Charlie stares at Alicia. “You’re in denial,” Charlie says.

“No! I’m not giving up. My mother didn’t die so I could drown in a basement with the one person I hate the most on this planet.”

Charlie doesn’t react to that. She swims back to Al as Alicia continues futilely to push at the doors. Charlie has to sit on the edge of the workbench to keep her head above the water.

“There’s got to be another way,” Alicia mutters. “Another way out –”

“Alicia,” Charlie says. “How many bullets are in the gun?”

“I’m not going to check,” Alicia snaps. Alicia abandons the exterior doors in hopes of finding a window she can break, but none of the windows are large enough even for Charlie to crawl through. Alicia swims over to the workbench and motions for Charlie to slide over. Alicia hoists herself up onto the edge and exhales heavily. She pulls the Glock out of her waistband and stares down at it in her hands.

Alicia pops the magazine out to find the gun’s fully loaded. Lucky.

“You should do it,” Charlie says. Alicia twists around to send her an incredulous look, but Charlie just swallows and nods. “I don’t want to drown and have to be one of those…things.”

“We won’t,” Alicia says. “There’s still time. We can still get out –”

Charlie shakes her head. “I think we’re almost out of time, Alicia. Please, do it. So I don’t have to.”

Alicia briefly closes her eyes. “Is Al still unconscious?”

“Yes.”

Alicia inhales deeply. “It’d be great if she’d wake up right now. I can’t decide this alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“You’re a kid,” Alicia says. “You shouldn’t have to make a decision like this. And I shouldn’t have to decide for Al.”

Alicia slides off the bench, back into the water. She can’t touch the floor without going under.

“Alicia, wait!” Charlie calls.

“Stay with Al,” Alicia orders.

Charlie ignores her and splashes back into the water. “You should do it,” Charlie pleads. “We’re just wasting time. Please, I can’t –”

A loud sound – not as loud as the initial collapse of the house, but still – cuts Charlie off. Confusion crosses Alicia’s features, and she turns back toward the exterior doors. A walker has busted right through the doors and rolls down the steps.

“Flying walkers,” Alicia mutters. Her eyes widen. “Charlie, give me the gun barrel.”

Charlie hurries to pass it back to Alicia, and Alicia kills the walker before it even knows she’s there. She hauls the body into the water and shoves it away from them with a grunt. Above her, the exterior doors give way to the sky. The storm’s still raging, but it’s better than drowning in here.

“Help me get Al!” Alicia shouts. “Come on! We’ve got a way out!”

“The walkers –”

“You let me handle that.”

Alicia and Charlie pull Al into the water, though Alicia shoulders most of Al’s weight – including Al’s bag – but together, they manage to get her up out of the basement. Alicia stumbles under Al’s weight and has no choice but to lie her down in the grass.

“Stay with her,” Alicia says. She rummages through Al’s bag and pulls out a sheathed knife. She pushes it into Charlie’s bandaged hands then pats Al down until she locates the keys to the van. “If she wakes up, tell her I’ll be right back.”

“Alicia –”

“Protect her,” Alicia snaps. “She protected you from me. It’s time to step up.”

Charlie nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll kill what I can,” Alicia informs. “And I’ll be right back.”

Alicia swings the gun barrel like a bat at the nearest walker, ripping through its skull. She does as she said and kills the walkers she comes across along the way, but she bets a good amount of them had gotten into the house before it collapsed. In a way, the collapse was kind of lucky. Of course, she can think that now that she isn’t about to drown in the basement.

Alicia reaches the van and gets behind the wheel. It occurs to her that she’s only going to be able to get the van up the driveway. She supposes that’ll have to be close enough, and she’ll just have to find a way to carry Al. Alicia parks the van as close as she can to where she left Charlie with Al. She kills the engine and hops out of the van, gun barrel in hand, just in time to see Charlie bracing herself to kill an oncoming walker – an adult man, twice Charlie’s size. Alicia takes off running and reaches the walker before it reaches Charlie. She shoves the gun barrel through the back of its skull then watches it drop at her feet.

“We gotta get Al to the van,” Alicia breathes.

“How?”

“Get her bag,” Alicia orders. “I – I’ll find a way.”

Charlie heaves Al’s bag onto her shoulder, and Alicia kneels at Al’s side. The rain pouring out of the sky helps to wash the blood from the cut in Al’s forehead and her lip. Alicia checks for a pulse again, just to be safe, and just as she’s pulling her hand back, Al’s eye twitches. Alicia hesitates but lays her hand gently on Al’s shoulder. Al grimaces, and Alicia waits.

“Alicia! More are coming,” Charlie calls.

“Get in the van,” Alicia says. “She’s waking up. We’ll be right there.”

“Alicia –”

“Just go!”

Al grunts, but her eyelids flutter open. “What happened?” she murmurs.

“The house collapsed,” Alicia says. She grasps onto Al’s shoulder and brings her other hand to Al’s jaw. “You were knocked out, but Charlie and I found a way out of the basement.”

“You didn’t kill her.”

Alicia winces. “I didn’t kill her.”

“That’s good,” Al says. She’s barely capable of speaking above a whisper. For a moment, they lock eyes. Al’s lips part. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little…pale.”

“It’s a long story,” Alicia admits. “I’m just – I’m so happy you’re conscious again.”

“We almost died, didn’t we?”

Alicia presses her lips together and nods. “Sort of.”

Al reaches up, takes Alicia’s face in her hands. “It’s okay,” she says. “We made it, thanks to you.”

Alicia inhales shakily. “I’m not ready to die.”

Al gives as much of a nod as she can. “I know,” she whispers. Al takes a few moments to just breathe, holding Alicia’s gaze. “You should get me up,” Al finally says. “There are walkers.”

Before Alicia can change her mind, she kisses Al, hard, and only stops when Al winces in pain. Alicia tastes blood, probably from Al’s lip, so Alicia pulls back, touches her palms to Al’s face, and murmurs, “I’m sorry.” Al’s eyes close in response, and she nods again as Alicia pushes herself to her feet. Alicia swipes her wet hair out of her face and grasps onto the gun barrel tightly, so her hands will stop trembling. Alicia turns and kills six walkers in quick succession before they even get close to Al. 

Alicia’s head clears, and she realizes her entire body is shaking – shivering, really, because the rain’s fucking freezing. She just hadn’t noticed before. She’s soaked to the bone. The water continues to fall heavy out of the sky, and Alicia feels like she’s going to suffocate. Except she can’t suffocate, because Charlie can’t get Al to the van on her own. Alicia hooks the gun barrel on her belt and she goes back to Al.

“Can you stand?” Alicia asks.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Alicia nods and grabs both of Al’s arms. She draws on every ounce of strength she has left in her body and hauls Al to her feet. Al immediately stumbles, and Alicia pulls Al’s arm around her neck and holds on. Al manages to walk the twenty or so feet to the van, and Charlie helps Alicia get Al into the back. Al drops down onto the seats, lies back, and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“She’s bleeding,” Alicia says. “Get it to stop.”

“What about you?” Charlie asks.

“Someone has to drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia admits. “But I think we need to try to find June.”

Charlie just nods. Alicia shuts the back doors of the van and makes her way to the driver’s side. Her eyes fall on the family she’d dragged out of the house, and she hesitates with her hand on the door handle. The basket of family photos is still next to the four bodies. Alicia hates that she looks at those four unidentifiable walker bodies and thinks _that was my family_. There’s a dad, and a mom, a brother and a sister. Steven, and Madison, Nick and Alicia Clark.

And they’re all dead, except for her. Those four walker bodies – it’s like an omen, almost. Three Clarks are dead, from oldest to youngest, leaving Alicia as the last remaining Clark. And she will be dead soon enough, too. Alicia stares in disbelief at the walker family as water splashes against her face and runs into her eyes. She blinks it away and stares at how she’d dragged them out – dad, mom, brother, sister. In order, next to each other.

Alicia tears her eyes away and gets into the van. She tries to shake the feeling away as she pulls her boots off and dumps the water out of them.

“What took so long?” Charlie asks.

Alicia ignores her. “Has the bleeding stopped?”

“No,” Charlie says. “What took so long?”

“Nothing,” Alicia dismisses. “I was thinking.”

“About what?”

Alicia twists around to stare at Charlie. Alicia sighs. There it is again; Charlie’s just a scared little kid. “I was thinking about what we’re going to do,” Alicia lies. “Where we’re going to go.”

“Al’s hurt,” Charlie reminds. “She probably needs stitches, and she got hit in the head, so…so something bad could happen, right?”

“She could have a concussion. Brain bleed. I don’t know,” Alicia says. “I guess we’re going to find June first, huh?”

Charlie nods in agreement. “Not that she could do anything if Al’s brain is bleeding.”

“Right.”

“I think the cut stopped bleeding,” Charlie says. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes,” Alicia says. “That’s – we can work with that. You should change out of your wet clothes.”

“You should.”

“We all should,” Alicia mutters. “How about this: ten minutes. I’ll drive for ten minutes, and then we can get all our shit in order.”

“Okay.”

They drive for ten minutes. Charlie continues to hold gauze to Al’s forehead to make sure the bleeding fully stops, and Al flickers in and out of consciousness. Alicia brings the van to a stop somewhere isolated and climbs into the back. She finds dry clothes for herself and Charlie and begins changing. The silence between them, though, has gotten noticeably tenser.

“You good?”

Charlie hesitates. She switches hands, holding the gauze against Al’s forehead. “Why’d you kiss her?”

Alicia stiffens. She pulls the dry shirt over her head and clears her throat. “I don’t know,” she mumbles.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll hold the gauze. Put something dry on. And then get the walkie and start trying to call for June, okay?”

Charlie nods solemnly and switches places with Alicia. Alicia kneels at Al’s side and gently peels the gauze back from her forehead. Blood still trickles from the wound, but it doesn’t seem to be too deep, in Alicia’s inexpert opinion. Alicia gets a fresh wad of gauze and presses it back to Al’s forehead.

“What do I say?” Charlie asks.

“Hmm?”

“What do I say?” Charlie repeats. “Into the walkie.”

“Oh, just – something like _June, do you copy_?”

Charlie tries, but there’s no response. Alicia assures her they’ll try in the morning and has Charlie go up front and try to sleep.

“What about you?” Charlie asks.

“I’m going to take care of Al, and I’ll sleep, too,” Alicia says. “Just go try to sleep, okay?”

Charlie’s out within minutes of getting comfortable. Alicia gets Al’s head to stop bleeding and carefully bandages it. Alicia makes sure the wound doesn’t start bleeding again and carefully moves to the other side of the van. If she’s going to be able to drive, she’ll have to at least get a couple hours of rest. She hopes she’s exhausted enough to just pass out, because otherwise her mind’s going to keep her awake.

“You didn’t answer Charlie’s question.”

Alicia nearly jumps out of her skin. “You’re up,” she says dumbly. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Al grins sleepily at Alicia from across the aisle. “You know what I’m talking about. She asked you why you kissed me, and you told her you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Alicia snaps. “I just – I didn’t think.”

“Right. Because you’re the type who doesn’t think.”

“Maybe I am.”

Al laughs quietly and shakes her head. “Liar. You know why.”

“Then tell me why.”

“Hey, only you can know that. I can guess –”

“Then guess.”

“Because I lived?” Al questions. “You were afraid I’d die and leave you alone with the kid –”

“We were _all_ going to die,” Alicia cuts in. “Charlie – she wanted me to kill her before we could drown. We only got out because of – because of luck. Sheer dumb luck.” Alicia pauses, but Al waits for her to continue. “I would’ve had to decide,” Alicia says quietly. “Whether to let us drown and turn or – or I would’ve had to shoot you both and then myself. And I don’t know if I could’ve done that, and you – you weren’t there to help me. And I couldn’t put something like that on a kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alicia snorts. “Because it’s your fault the fucking house collapsed and you got knocked out?”

“No, but still. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Alicia waves her off, staring up at the ceiling. “We got lucky,” she says.

“Most of us are still alive because we got lucky a few times,” Al says. “But am I right?”

“I didn’t kiss you because I was afraid you would die,” Alicia mutters. “I don’t know why I did it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Alicia hesitates. “I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

“You’re such an ass,” Alicia grumbles. “You should sleep. You’re probably concussed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“There you go again with the vagueness.”

Al chuckles. “Unfortunately, that story’s nothing special. I was hit in the head with a softball in college.”

“Don’t you wear helmets?”

“I was the pitcher. It came back at my head.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s boring.”

“I’ll be fine,” Al says. “When we find June, I’m sure she’ll blow it up into a huge thing, but don’t listen to her. I’m good.”

As silence begins to settle between them, Alicia sits up suddenly. “You can’t leave Charlie with me. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we find the others, but I can’t – I can’t stay with Charlie. I didn’t kill her during the storm, like I promised, but I don’t know – when the storm ends…”

“Okay,” Al says. “If you have to leave on your own…then I guess that’s what you have to do.”

“I won’t be alone,” Alicia says. “I’ll have Strand and Luci.” Alicia pauses, staring across the aisle at Al. “You could come, too.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not,” Al says softly. Alicia nods and lies back down. “Don’t take it personally,” Al says. “I don’t stay.”

“I know. But you followed me. On Morgan’s orders, sure, but you listened.”

“Morgan’s a friend, and you – I was worried about you.”

“Right,” Alicia laughs.

“I was. And you’re Madison’s kid. I couldn’t – I don’t know. I guess I feel like I owe her.”

“Why? She tried to kill you, didn’t she? Tried to steal your shit.”

“In a strange way…she helped me. Probably didn’t know it, but I figured I could at least make sure her kid didn’t die during a hurricane.”

“You did a great job,” Alicia says wryly. “Especially when you were unconscious.”

“You already said that wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t, but it was incredibly inconvenient.”

“You’re telling me.”

They both laugh wearily, and they lapse into silence again. It goes on for so long, Alicia starts to think Al fell back to sleep.

“Al?” Alicia says.

“Hmm?”

“You could stay,” Alicia says. “You could choose to stay with us.”

“Alicia,” Al sighs. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t,” Alicia agrees. “Our lives could be incredibly short. We almost _died_ today. For real. We almost died. And we could almost die again at any moment. Why shouldn’t you stay with people who care about you?”

Alicia’s met with silence once more, and she begins to wonder if Al nodded off while she was talking.

“Maybe you’re right,” Al finally grunts. “I’ll think about it. Can I sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

Alicia falls asleep herself shortly after Al. She wakes up on her own in the morning. Something feels off. It takes her a few minutes to place, but Alicia realizes the sound of the rain is gone. She gets up and stares out the windshield at a clear sky. Alicia blinks a few times. She wakes Charlie up and tells her to put a call out on the walkie again.

“How’s Al?”

Alicia glances back at her. “Alive,” Alicia answers. “For now.”

“Don’t say that.”

Alicia cracks a smile. “She’s going to live, Charlie. She’s fine. Call for June. I don’t think Al wants me to stitch up her head.”

“Hell no,” Al grumbles, startling Alicia. “You’d leave a nasty scar.”

“I’m going to drive us back toward where we all split off from,” Alicia decides. “Charlie, keep trying to call June. Al – just don’t hurt yourself anymore, okay?”

Al gives her a lazy thumbs up in response. Alicia gets back behind the wheel, and Charlie gets to calling for June on the walkie. None of them find any reason to talk, and Alicia easily tunes out Charlie’s repetitive _June, do you copy?_

Alicia couldn’t guess how much time passes before the static coming across the walkie stops. “Charlie? It’s June. I copy.”

“June!” Charlie exclaims. Alicia slams on the breaks, ignoring Al’s grumbled complaints about the abrupt stop, and she hauls herself into the back.

“Give me that,” Alicia commands. Charlie rolls her eyes and passes the walkie over. “June, it’s Alicia. We’re in the SWAT van, and Al’s hurt. Where are you?”

There’s a pause before June answers, “Give me a minute. I’ll find out exactly where we are so we can meet up.”

June comes back with a location – a mile marker on a nearby highway – and Alicia swiftly changes directions and gets them there. She isn’t surprised to find a school bus parked in the middle of the road, converted into a living space by John and June. June steps out before Alicia brings the van to a stop, and the moment it’s parked, Charlie rushes out the back toward June.

Alicia hops out as June ushers Charlie over to John, sending a wary look Alicia’s way. “What happened?” June asks.

“It’s a long story,” Alicia exhales. “We were in a house, and it collapsed, and Al was hit in the head by one of the support beams or whatever. She probably needs stitches –”

“And she probably has at least a concussion,” June finishes. “I’ll look at her. What about you? Charlie? What’re those bandages about?”

“Charlie cut her hands open on some broken glass,” Alicia says. “Al cleaned and bandaged them, but you should probably check them over, too.”

June nods. “Al first.”

Alicia motions for June to get in the van and overhears John asking Charlie if she wants to play a game of Scrabble. Charlie must say yes, because they both head for the school bus as John produces a piece of candy from one of his pockets and holds it out to Charlie.

Alicia can’t help but think Charlie would be just fine with John and June. She’d be out of Alicia’s life without Alicia having to kill her.

“Hey! You’re alive,” Alicia hears behind her, and she finally rejoins Al in the van.

“So are you,” June replies. “Had quite the adventure, it sounds like.”

Al waves her off, grinning. “It was nothing.”

June glances over at Alicia as she sanitizes her hands. “I told you not to listen to Morgan,” June scolds.

“He was worried about the kid, rightly so, but everything’s fine now,” Al says. “Thanks to me.”

“You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me,” Alicia snorts.

Al grins and throws her a wink as June shakes her head. “Hold still,” June instructs.

“Don’t mess up my face.”

“I won’t, if you’ll stop moving.”

Alicia takes a seat and watches June stitch Al’s forehead shut. June determines Al has a mild concussion, and Al just rolls her eyes and says, “I promise not to hit my head on anything.”

“Good,” June says. She claps Al on the shoulder and turns to Alicia. “Watch after her, okay?”

Alicia nods. “Thanks.”

June smiles and nods back. She hesitates halfway out the back doors. “John and I are going to ask Charlie if she wants to stay with us, unless you two have any objections.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Al says quickly. She manages to get to her feet and walk over to June. “I don’t know if she’ll say yes, but I doubt she wants to stay with me and Alicia.”

Alicia startles. Al’s almost making it sound like the two of them are going to stick together. But that's insane.

“We won’t take off until she gives you an answer,” Al promises. “Thanks, June.”

Al pulls the doors shut after June leaves and turns back to Alicia. Alicia stares up at Al curiously. Al crosses her arms over her chest, staring back with a gentle smile on her face. “Why are you staring at me?” Alicia finally asks.

“Why are _you_ staring at _me_?”

Alicia inhales deeply. “So you’re not gonna dump me on the side of the road to fend for myself?”

Al laughs until she realizes Alicia’s being serious. “What? God, no. I’m not a terrible person, Alicia. Besides, you saved my life. I owe you.”

“You owe me or you owe my mom?”

“I owe you,” Al says. “You got me out of that basement alive.”

“That’s just because I didn’t want to die.”

Al shrugs, taking a seat across from Alicia. “You could’ve left me and Charlie behind.”

“Then I’d be a terrible person. More terrible than I already am.”

Al waves her hand dismissively. “We all do terrible things. Or want to do terrible things. Doesn’t make us terrible people.” Al pauses, eyes searching Alicia’s face. “Something tells me you’re not as bad as you think.”

Before Alicia can respond, there’s a knock on the back door. Alicia motions for Al to stay put and gets up to answer it. She’s not surprised to see June, and she opens the door widely enough for June to see Al.

“Charlie’s coming with us,” June says. “And as long as you think you’re okay –”

“I’m fine,” Al says.

“We’re gonna be on our way.”

They say their goodbyes, and June returns to the bus with John and Charlie. Alicia locks the van doors and turns back to Al.

“Now what?” Alicia asks.

“Well, I’m mildly concussed,” Al replies. “So I think you have to keep driving.”

“Driving where?”

“I thought you wanted to find Strand and Luci.”

Alicia nods. “You should keep resting,” she suggests. She steps around Al to move toward the front. “Once we find Luci and Strand, I’m sure you’ll be on your way, and if you’re not –”

“Alicia,” Al cuts in. She catches Alicia’s wrist in her hand, stopping her from climbing into the front.

“What?”

Alicia turns back to face her and realizes there’s only inches between them. Alicia shifts her weight from foot to foot, staring at the stitching in Al’s forehead instead of into her eyes. She shakes Al’s hand off her wrist as politely as she can as Al’s lips twist into a smile.

“I’ll stay,” Al says.

“You – what?”

“I’ll stay,” Al repeats. “If you want me.”

Alicia answers without thinking. “Of course I want you.”

Al grins, chuckling. “I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

Alicia blushes, staring down at her boots. She can feel Al’s eyes still on her face. “Are you going to let me drive yet, or are you just going to stand in my personal space?”

“You know, I was conscious when you kissed me,” Al says. “I remember it happening.”

“Yes, I – I’m aware,” Alicia splutters. “I wouldn’t – look, I’m sorry –”

“Don’t be sorry,” Al says. “But next time –”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“Next time, give me a chance to kiss back.”

Alicia falters for a moment, and Al laughs and winks at her. “You were injured,” Alicia argues. “And there were walkers.”

“You need to have better timing then,” Al says. She motions toward the front. “Go drive. I’ll be back here. Sleeping or something.”

Alicia gnaws on her lower lip. “You mean you don’t want to keep me company up front? We just survived a hurricane together.”

Al, surprisingly, doesn’t act like a dick. She offers Alicia a genuine smile and nods. Alicia climbs behind the wheel, and Al follows, settling in the passenger’s seat.

“Do you have any idea where Luci or Strand might be?” Al asks.

“I know a few places we can check,” Alicia says. “And we can keep trying the walkie.”

Al nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Alicia starts the engine. She can’t help but to glance over at Al.

“What?” Al says.

Alicia suppresses a smile. “Nothing,” she replies. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good. You?”

Alicia lets herself smile this time. “I’m good, too,” she declares. She drives off down the road in the opposite direction of John and June’s bus, and it isn’t long before Al clears her throat. Alicia instinctively looks over, surprised to see Al’s hand extended toward her. Al raises her eyebrows, waiting. Alicia shakes her head, but without a word, she links her fingers through Al’s and holds on tight.

It’s almost dark when the silence is broken next.

“You don’t owe me,” Alicia says quietly. “And you don’t owe my mom. We can just start over.”

Al looks up from the book propped open in her lap, and once she catches Alicia’s eye, she gives a slight nod. “Pull off,” she says, snapping her book shut. “It’s getting dark.”

“We can keep going. I don’t mind.”

“You’ve driven all day,” Al says. “We can stop. Sleep.”

Reluctantly, Alicia pulls off to the side and shuts the engine off. “I’m not tired,” Alicia blurts. “I still feel like I’ve cheated death.”

“We did cheat death,” Al boasts. “Not the first time, probably won’t be the last. Come on. You can at least lie down.”

Alicia unbuckles her seatbelt, exhaling heavily. She runs her hand through her hair wearily before she manages to stand. After sitting for hours, she needs to stretch. She realizes Al’s waiting for her to head to the back first, and Alicia’s eyebrows pull together.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Alicia says.

Al shrugs and gets to her feet. Before she can head back, Alicia grabs a fistful of Al’s shirt and stops her. Al turns back, lips parting, but before she can ask her question, Alicia takes her face in her hands and kisses her, gently this time, since it isn’t pouring and there aren’t any walkers around. Al shakes off her surprise quickly, grabbing Alicia by the waist. Alicia loses track of time, but when she does finally pull back, she breathes, “I gave you a chance to kiss back this time.”

Al laughs and nods. “Thanks.”

They go to opposite sides of the van to sleep. Alicia’s too tired to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible! In the meantime, feel free to find me on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight.


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